


trustworthy for such work

by sharkfish



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Demisexual Castiel (Supernatural), Djinni & Genies, Dragon Castiel, Dragons, M/M, Magic, Mentions of Daniel Radcliffe's farting corpse, Mutual Pining, References to Addiction, References to Knotting, Wishes, djinn dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-10
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-08-21 17:18:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16580744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkfish/pseuds/sharkfish
Summary: Cas needs to fix this somehow, but can’t think of how, and it just keeps getting worse, because he realizes he doesn’t know if Dean has a vague knowing or if he —oh, god— saw the specific things Cas had been thinking about.Lately, Cas has been wondering what Dean tastes like. His mouth, the markings on his chest, his cock. Does Dean know the ways Cas has touched himself, wishing it was Dean?





	trustworthy for such work

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to [suckerfordeansfreckles](http://suckerfordeansfreckles.tumblr.com), [wingsandimpalas](http://wingsandimpalas.tumblr.com), and [jemariel](http://jemariel.tumblr.com). 
> 
> *****content note***** : very brief blood drinking type scene, described only vaguely 
> 
> _An ifrit from the jinn said: “I will bring it to you before you rise from your place. And verily, I am indeed strong, and trustworthy for such work.”_  
>  _—qur’an, surah an-nami, 27:38-40_

Cas startles awake when the door opens. The couch faces away from the entry, but he can hear Dean hang up his keys, kick off his shoes, the soft pad of his feet coming into the living room. Dean smiles when he rounds the couch and sees Cas, the markings on his face glowing in the light of the tv.

“Hey, baby,” Dean says, leaning down to kiss Cas, first his mouth and then his forehead. “You didn’t have to wait up.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Cas says. “Take me to bed.”

Cas is sluggish through their nightly routine, but in the end Dean’s nuzzled up behind him, hand flat on Cas’s chest over his heart. “Love you,” Dean says.

Cas smiles sleepily, squeezes Dean’s hand. He doesn’t have to say it.

 

Cas startles awake when the door opens. Dean breezes in like he actually lives in Cas’s apartment, as usual. At least Cas has finally convinced him to pause long enough to pull off his boots, but then Dean’s coming around the couch, plopping two six-packs on the table, and shoving Cas’s feet out of the way so he can sit.

“Hey,” he says, grinning. “Sorry for interrupting your nap.”

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” Cas says, sitting up and rubbing at his eyes.

“Should I leave you to your slumber?”

“No, you should make me coffee.”

Dean laughs. “All right, princess.”

Cas stretches while he listens to Dean move around in the kitchen. Dean knows the right cabinets, knows how much cream Cas likes. He comes out of the kitchen with a beer for himself and a mug for Cas.

“Thanks,” Cas says. The coffee’s already cooled down too much to really warm him.

“Any time,” Dean says, flopping on the couch again. He steals the remote and starts clicking around. “I picked an art film. You’ll love it.”

Cas squints. “I don’t trust you.”

“Harry Potter’s in it.”

Cas keeps squinting. “I don’t trust you, but fine, get on with it.”

Cas was right not to trust him, but watching Dean go silent, staring at the screen, is fun in itself. “Ok,” Dean says, “in my defense, I didn’t realize ‘farting corpse’ was quite so literal. Also, it’s a fucking sauna in here, are you kidding?”

Cas scowls. “I turned the heater down for you.”

“It’s a hundred degrees outside, dude,” Dean says, rolling his eyes. “I’ll make you a deal. Heat goes off, and I’ll huddle with you for warmth.”

Cas remembers the dream, Dean nestled so close and warm, and he nods. He tries not to look fear-frozen as he watches Dean get up to turn off the heater and then sit back on the couch, closer to the center, beckoning Cas closer.

Cas slides over and lets Dean wrap his arm around him, tucking Cas close against him. Even through Cas’s layers, Dean is so _warm,_ and he smells good, and the flowing copper marks framing his face are even more beautiful from this close.

“Pay attention,” Dean says. “I think he’s talking about some Oedipus shit.”

Cas turns back to the tv. It takes a bit, but eventually he melts into Dean’s heat, head on his shoulder, horn brushing against Dean’s cheek.

“I didn’t know you ran this cold,” Dean says. “I feel like a dick now.”

“I’m used to it,” Cas says.

Dean wraps his other arm around Cas, rubbing his arms and then his back, and by the end of the very, very stupid movie, Cas is melted halfway into Dean’s lap.

 

The next morning, Cas sees a penny shining on the sidewalk on the way to work. He stops to pick it up.

 

Cas doesn’t think about anything in particular when he jerks off. It feels good, and he feels the urge to do it with some regularity, but he has to focus directly on the sensation of his own touch to keep from getting distracted.

Eyes closed, stroking his cock, Cas has a sharp, vivid image of what it would feel like if Dean’s hands had slid under his sweater instead of just rubbing his back. If Dean had tilted his head just the smallest amount, just right, they could’ve kissed.

He imagines Dean with him in bed, Dean’s hand around his cock. He imagines the marks that he knows cover the rest of Dean’s body. He imagines touching Dean’s magic.

Cas has never had such a breathtaking orgasm, the kind that keeps his heart pounding for a long time afterward.

 

Cas’s phone starts ringing on his drive home. Only two people call him: his mother, who doesn’t know how to text, and Dean, who hates it. Cas has to answer either way, but he hopes.

“Hello,” Cas says.

“There’s my favorite komodo,” Dean says. Cas would scowl at him if they were in person, but in the privacy of his car, he smiles.

“That’s offensive,” Cas says.

“Hey, I love reptiles. Middle school science class, we had a —”

“Dean. What do you want?”

“You wanna do something tonight?”

“Such as?”

“You’re not being very nice to me,” Dean says. “But you’re stuck with me, so. Whatever you want.”

“Lasagna,” Cas says.

“Cool. My place. See you in a bit.”

 

Cas collects enough pennies to need a jar, and he hides it in the back of his closet. Dean’s never gone in his bedroom before, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.

 

Jimmy and Stephen are ganging up on Cas, needling him to talk about Dean. “You don’t need to know everything about all my friends,” Cas says.

“Bullshit,” Jimmy says, pointing his chopsticks at Cas. “We absolutely do. Is he a dragon or what?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Cas says.

“So he’s not,” Stephen says. “Mom’s going to be pissed.”

“Fuck Mom,” Jimmy says, and then, at Stephen’s eyebrow raise: “Not like that, asshole.”

There’s a knock at the door, and then the knob turning. Jimmy’s already getting out of his seat, and Cas knows there’s only one other person it could be. “Oh no,” he whispers, but Jimmy’s already hopped out into the hall.

“Hey,” Dean says, “sorry, I know —” He pauses, and then his voice comes out quiet and dark, dangerous. “What did you do to Cas?”

Dean sounds _murderous,_ and Cas rushes out before anything bad happens. “Dean,” Cas says, offering him a small smile. “I’m fine. This is Jimmy.”

“And Stephen,” Stephen says from behind Cas.

“What the fuck?” Dean says, and now he just sounds surprised. “You didn’t feel the need to tell me you’re a triplet?”

Cas doesn’t have a good answer to that. His whole life, he’s been under the shadow of effervescent Jimmy and charismatic Stephen. He just wanted someone to have for himself. He wanted _Dean_ for himself.

“Nice to meet you,” Jimmy says, holding out his hand.

“Yeah, you too,” Dean says, shaking with him, and then Stephen.

“That knight in shining armor routine would’ve been pretty cute if I wasn’t afraid for my life,” Jimmy says.

“Can confirm,” Stephen says. “I wasn’t afraid for your life, and it was cute.”

Dean laughs along, but it doesn’t sound sincere. “Dean?” Cas says. “Can I speak to you privately?”

Dean follows Cas into Cas’s bedroom, and looks so miserable when Cas turns to him. “I’m sorry, man,” Dean says. “I didn’t mean to fuck up your thing with your brothers — I just — shit. I’ll go.”

“No, it’s ok. What’s going on?”

“I just.” Dean lets out a slow breath, closing his eyes. “I’m just having a really rough day.”

Cas would’ve hesitated before, but since the _huddling for warmth,_ it seems easy to pull Dean into a hug. “You should stay. You’ll probably like them better than me anyway.”

“Not possible,” Dean says, giving Cas a weak smile.

“Or I can make them leave.”

“No, no. Just. If I could hang around, maybe distract me a little?”

“My brothers are assholes.”

Dean shrugs. “So am I, but you put up with me.”

“I’m not turning the heat down. Jimmy is very whiny when he’s cold.”

“Shocking,” Dean says. “We better go back before they think we’re fucking in here.”

Cas is glad Dean turns away before he can see Cas’s cheeks turn red.

 

Jimmy’s in the chair and Stephen’s on the couch, so Dean and Cas have no choice but to sit next to each other. Jimmy wiggles his eyebrows at Cas and Cas shoots him a glare before sitting, neutral in the center seat, not touching Dean or Stephen.

“Cassie didn’t tell us you’re an ifrit,” Stephen says.

Dean glances sideways at Cas. “Is that a problem?”

“Of course not,” Cas says.

Jimmy and Stephen give twin snorts. Dean’s jaw tightens. “I’m not trying to drink anyone’s blood or anything.”

“It’s cool,” Jimmy says. “We’re equal opportunity.”

“I should’ve gotten you a beer,” Cas says. “Do you want a beer?”

“Um, sure,” Dean says.

Cas hurries so Stephen and Jimmy don’t have too much of a chance to corner Dean, but it takes him a second to find the bottle opener and an interrogation has already started when he comes back in.

“Cas won’t tell us anything about you,” Jimmy says.

“We have questions.”

“Not much to tell,” Dean says, accepting the bottle from Cas. “I go to work and go to sleep. Hang out with Cas in between.”

Cas flushes and doesn’t look at anyone in the hopes they won’t notice. It’s fruitless — Jimmy and Stephen kow all his tells — but they’re merciful enough to keep quiet.

“Hold up,” Jimmy says. “Are you the reason Cas knows the difference between Star Wars and Star Trek?”

“Dude,” Stephen says, already starting to laugh. “He calls me up, and he’s like, ‘Did you know Star Trek isn’t a Star Wars spin-off?’”

Dean laughs along, but it’s not unkind. “You’re such a dork.”

“I prefer Star Trek,” Cas says.

“I prefer Harrison Ford,” Dean says.

Cas can’t help smiling and rolls his eyes to try to cover it up. “You like anyone with two legs and a pulse.”

“Whoa,” Dean says. “I’ve never said anything about limb requirements. Any number is fine.”

Even with the laughter, Dean’s tense. Jimmy and Stephen can’t tell, but Cas knows him. Cas knows the twitch in Dean’s fingers isn’t a regular nervous tic like Cas’s — Dean’s dimmer, somehow. Oxidized.

Stephen leaves first, but Jimmy’s not long after, tugging one of Cas’s horns and saying, “Adios, hermanos.”

Cas could move to the other side of the couch, but he doesn’t. He pulls his knee up and turns to face Dean more fully. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Fuck. It’s pathetic, honestly, I’m s—”

“Dean,” Cas says, firmly, his hand on Dean’s knee. “What happened today?”

Dean looks away and is quiet, but Cas can tell he’s just working through his thoughts. “They can still smell it on me,” he says. “Other ifrits. Talked to this guy on the phone, and he was all fuckin’ pumped to come in to the office, and then — one whiff, he was out the door.”

“I’m sorry,” Cas says.

“It’s ok I guess,” Dean says. “I know I’m scum no matter what I do.”

“Is that really what you think of yourself?”

Dean glances at Cas and gives a little half-smile. Cas wonders if a second hug in one night is too much, but then Dean looks down again and says, “Are you cold?”

Cas isn’t very good at people, but he’s good at Dean, and he knows Dean will never admit to needing the touch for himself. “Somewhat,” Cas says, which is a lie, but it’s a good excuse to move closer and pull Dean’s arm around him.

Dean’s the one who melts into Cas this time, far too close. “I didn’t realize you have freckles,” Cas says.

Dean’s hand drifts along the curve of one of Cas’s horns, which is almost shockingly presumptuous. Cas reminds himself that there’s no reason Dean would know that it’s an intimate kind of touch, but goosebumps rise on his arms anyway.

Dean shifts, and suddenly he’s nestled into Cas’s neck with Cas’s arm around his shoulders. “I like your brothers,” Dean says. “But I still like you better.”

Cas smiles and noses into Dean’s hair. “What did you think Jimmy had done to me? When you got here?”

“Uh,” Dean says, sounding embarrassed. “I don’t know. A skinwalker or something.”

“How did you know it wasn’t me?”

“Didn’t smell right. And you would never wear that jacket.”

Cas rubs Dean’s back slowly, just listening to his breathing get deeper. They’re quiet for a long time, and then Dean says, “Thank you.”

“What for?”

“Letting me crash your family thing. And — you know. Everything else.”

“Our parents are isolationists.”

“Yeah, kinda figured.”

“We’re — I’m — not.”

“Obviously.”

Cas is presumptuous now, running his hand just once through Dean’s hair, coming to rest on the side of Dean’s neck.

“Really thought I was going to lose all my chips tonight,” Dean says, quietly, breath warm on Cas’s collar bone. “But I thought — you’re my best friend, you know? I wanted to see you first.” Dean reaches into his pocket and comes out with a fold of twenties, throws them on the coffee table. “Went to the ATM and everything.”

“I’m glad you’re here.”

“Yeah,” Dean says. “Me too.”

 

Cas puts Dean to bed on his couch, and doesn’t hang around to watch Dean strip after half-heartedly grumbling about the temperature.

Cas buys a copper vase on Amazon.

 

Cas wakes up in his dark cave under his heavy blankets. It smells like coffee and he can hear Dean puttering around in the kitchen. Cas imagines they’d spent the night together in his bed, staying up too late just to kiss, Dean’s hands sliding up the ivory scales protecting Cas’s spine from the nape of his neck to the small of his back.

Dean’s in Cas’s kitchen in nothing but navy boxers and black ankle socks. There are freckles scattered over his shoulders just like his cheeks, like stars behind the galaxy of his markings.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Dean says, tossing Cas a grin.

“Are you a morning person?” Cas says, too aghast to stare at the long expanse of gold and copper skin in front of him.

“Guess so,” Dean says, still grinning, and he tugs on one of Cas’s horns, affectionately like Jimmy did, but more, too, because Dean’s mostly naked in Cas’s kitchen, and Cas can’t stop thinking about touching him. “Get your coffee and then cut some strawberries for me.”

“Where did you get strawberries?”

“Dude, it’s like ten o’ clock. I’ve been up, got food delivery since you subsist on made-of-people juice and Grubhub.”

Cas squints. “Soylent isn’t made of people.”

Dean rolls his eyes and points at the basket of strawberries in the sink. “Get to it, lizard person.”

Obediently, Cas piles them on the cutting board and starts slicing them. “You wouldn’t like it if I said something like that about you.”

Dean pauses from where he’s scrambling eggs. “You know I’m just kidding, right? It’s awesome that you’re a dragon.”

Cas cuts his thumb open.

Dean smells the blood before Cas feels the pain. He grabs Cas’s wrist, and for one delirious moment Cas thinks he might lick it away, but he just shoves Cas’s hand under the faucet and turns on the water. “You’re such a dork,” Dean says, smiling again — but then he blinks and his expression goes stiff, then shifts to a practiced neutral.

“I’m ok,” Cas says. “I have bandaids.”

“Um. Right.” Dean jerks his hand away from Cas’s, flinging water everywhere. “I’ll get ‘em.”

Cas isn’t sure what’s going on, because Dean won’t look at him at all while he carefully wraps a bandage around Cas’s thumb. “I should probably jet after breakfast,” Dean says. “See if I can meet up with Derek.”

“Your sponsor?”

“Yeah.”

“That might be a good idea,” Cas says.

Dean barely says anything as he shovels food in his mouth, and then he’s out the door when Cas insists on doing the dishes.

 

Cad muddles around on his computer for awhile, and then suddenly a worrying thought breaks through his melancholy about Dean’s rushed departure.

 **Cas:** How are you? Should I be worried?

 **Dean:** No, sorry for being weird. I’m seeing Derek and his mate in a bit

 **Cas:** Will you let me know you’re ok?

 **Dean:** Yes mom

 **Cas:** Thank you.

Dean doesn’t call, and he’ll never engage in a real conversation over text, but later he pops a message to Cas to say he’s _fine, headed to bed early._

 

Cas can’t control his bedtime fantasies about Dean lately, but now all he wants to do is hold and protect him. Cas hugs his pillow, and he’s mostly asleep when a memory works its way in. His father watching Fox news, a fearmongering piece about ifrits in healthcare. His father’s voice, saying, _Blood is how they take your wishes._

Cas always assumed that meant through feeding. But —

Cas jerks awake and stops breathing, staring into the hard dark with a pounding heart.

 _Blood. Wishes._ “Oh no,” Cas whispers.

He needs to fix this somehow, but can’t think of how, and it just keeps getting worse, because he realizes he doesn’t know if Dean has a vague knowing or if he — _oh, god_ — saw the specific things Cas had been thinking about.

Lately, Cas has been wondering what Dean tastes like. His mouth, the markings on his chest, his cock. Does Dean know the ways Cas has touched himself, wishing it was Dean?

Cas lays awake most of the night, practicing what he might say.

 

Cas waits until after he’s had his first cup of coffee, and even then he stares at his phone for a long time; he wakes it up and it goes black a handful of times before he finally pushes the call button.

It takes Dean a long time to answer. “Hey, Cas.”

“Hello, Dean.” Cas’s instinct is to smile at hearing Dean say his name, but it’s smothered now. “I owe you after yesterday. I’ll come over and bring lunch.”

Pause. Finally, Dean says, “Ok.”

“I’ll see you in an hour.”

Cas puts on two sweaters. He picks up burgers. He knocks on Dean’s door, then lets himself in.

Dean smiles to see him. There are two Dr. Peppers on his coffee table, Parks and Rec on low volume. “Oh, damn. You’re amazing.”

“Extra mushrooms,” Cas says, handing the bag over to Dean to split up their meals. He dumps Cas’s million ketchup packets on the table without saying anything.

Dean’s heater kicks on, and Cas glances at him sideways. “How are you today?”

“Sober.”

“I wasn’t trying to imply —”

“I know. Man, I’m really fucking up with you lately.”

Instead of responding, Cas blurts out, “I know you know my wish.”

Dean freezes for a moment, then rubs his hand over his face. “I — fuck — I didn’t mean to.”

“We can still be friends,” Cas says. “I hope.”

Dean lifts his head and gives a wry smile, though he doesn’t look at Cas. “It’s cool. I know people think I’m hot or whatever.”

“What exactly did you see?”

“How _pretty_ my mouth would be around your dick.”

It occurs to Cas that just like he didn’t know about the blood, Dean doesn’t know what desire means in dragons. “That’s not my wish,” Cas says.

“It’s ok, Cas.”

“Dragons are demisexual.” When Dean doesn’t speak, Cas continues, “I’ve always thought you’re beautiful, but that kind of wish is newer.”

Dean’s eyes jump to Cas’s, and he’s trying to sound light-hearted and teasing. “You hoarding for me, Cas?” Cas flushes and Dean’s eyes widen. “Seriously?”

“Perhaps.”

Dean’s smile is small but pleased. “Sorry I freaked and ran out on you.”

“I was just worried. Since you had such a bad day.”

“I’m ok,” Dean says, and then, after a moment’s hesitation, scoots closer to Cas on the couch. Cas’s arm raises to wrap around his shoulders without thinking about it, and Dean presses his face into Cas’s neck.

Cas turns up the tv, watching Leslie hug Ann close with her wings.

 

Cas is in rush hour traffic when his phone rings.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean says, and a smile stretches on Cas’s face.

“Hello, Dean.”

“I’ve been thinking, and — maybe you don’t want to. But I think you should kiss me.”

The light turns green, but Cas doesn’t move for so long a horn honks behind him. “I should kiss you?”

“I figured based on what I saw, maybe — but if not, that’s —”

“I want to.”

“Ok. Cool.” Dean sounds like he’s smiling, too. “I’m just crashing after work tonight, but you wanna hang out tomorrow?”

“Yes, let’s.”

“I’m coming over to yours so you can show me the dowry you’ve been making for me.”

Cas rolls his eyes. “It’s not a dowry.”

“Mm, keep telling yourself that,” Dean says. “I’m grabbing food now, but I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

 

Cas doesn’t know if Dean could see his fears along with his wishes, so he tries not to let his mind run in circles about what happens if Dean only kisses him the once, then never again.

 

Dean walks into Cas’s place like he belongs there. Cas is on his couch with a book, and Dean flops down next to him, tugging at one of Cas’s horns like he might not notice Dean’s arrival.

“Hey,” Dean says, his smile so bright.

“Hello,” Cas says. Sometimes Dean is scruffy and coming straight from work, but tonight he’s clean-shaven, hair still damp from a shower. “How are you?”

“Pretty, pretty, good. I’m hopin’ I might get to kiss you tonight.”

Cas reaches blindly to put his Kindle on the coffee table, unable to take his eyes off Dean. “Me too. Would you like to now?”

“Now is good,” Dean says.

Cas’s eyes drop to Dean’s mouth and linger before he leans forward, somehow finding the bravery to touch Dean, cradle his jaw in his palm just before their lips meet.

Cas expects Dean to kiss dirty and rough, but he doesn’t rush, lets Cas take the lead. Dean’s cheeks are flushed when Cas pulls back.

“Did you wish for that, too?” Dean says.

“Yes. Often.”

Dean smiles, but it’s a smile Cas has never seen before, a little shy. Dean kisses him again, his hand sliding to the back of Cas’s neck to hold him close.

Cas can feel Dean’s magic and thinks Dean’s markings are probably shining more than usual, but Cas has no interest in pulling away to find out. Cas has never been more glad that he waited for his first kiss for someone that felt like _mate._

“Cas,” Dean murmurs. “Will you show me your hoard?”

Cas looks away. “It’s embarrassing.”

“I won’t make fun of you, promise.”

“You make fun of me all the time,” Cas says, rolling his eyes.

Dean laughs, and it makes Cas smile again, too. “I won’t this time.”

Cas grimaces but gets up, and Dean follows to Cas’s bedroom, but he stops in the doorway, eyebrows raised. “So — wow, ok.”

Cas bites his lip and glances around, trying to see his room from Dean’s eyes, and it makes him flush red with shame. There’s the jar of pennies on the dresser, but there’s also a copper vase, jewelry, a delicate flower, a pile of tangled wire, _cookware._

Dean walks in and touches a thick copper bracelet on a shelf. “Is this…?”

Cas doesn’t know how to explain it. That it wasn’t a conscious connection to the color of Dean’s magic, that it doesn’t feel like a choice but a compulsion of longing, no matter how stupid he knows it is.

Dean turns towards Cas and suddenly he’s crowding Cas up against his dresser and kissing him, a little more urgent. “You’re amazing, you know that?” Dean says, leaving Cas’s mouth to kiss along the line of his jaw, nuzzle into his neck.

Dean’s touch is _electrifying_ and bursts under Cas’s skin where Dean’s fingers are curled around one of Cas’s horns, pulling Cas’s head back to leave wet kisses down his neck. Dean’s other hand rucks up Cas’s shirt, slides up his side.

“Dean,” Cas gasps.

“Yeah, honey?”

“I’m — not sure. I haven’t done this before.”

Dean leans back to look at Cas. “Haven’t done what?”

“Sex.”

“Oh,” Dean says, and looks away for a moment, biting his lip, then meets Cas’s eyes. “Ok. Do you want to wait?”

“No, of course not,” Cas says. “I just might need some guidance.”

“I’m an excellent leader.”

“That seems unlikely, but I’ll humor you.”

Dean laughs and backs towards the bed, pulling Cas by the belt loops. “You’re so mean sometimes, Castiel.”

Cas’s shove to Dean’s shoulder is meant as a friendly rib, but Dean falls back into the bed and suddenly he’s spread out underneath Cas’s eyes, long legs slightly parted, shirt riding up to show the softness of his belly.

“C’mere, gorgeous,” Dean says, sitting up to pull off his shirt before tugging Cas into his lap.

“Do you mean that?” Cas says.

Dean is back to kissing Cas’s neck, his hands at the small of Cas’s back underneath his shirt, holding him close. “Mean what?”

“‘Gorgeous.’”

“Obviously.”

Cas had no idea how sharp Dean’s teeth really are until he feels them against his throat, but Dean doesn’t bite. Cas wonders what it would be like if he did.

“I want you out of these clothes,” Dean says. “Like, six months ago.”

Cas wants to ask, but then Dean pulls both of Cas’s sweaters off at the same time and circles his tongue slowly around one of Cas’s nipples. _“Oh,”_ Cas whispers, somehow surprised by the tingling spreading from his hands outward, and then he grabs at Dean, desperately needing grounding when Dean’s mouth brushes across the ivory birthmark on Cas’s chest.

“Mm,” Dean hums against Cas’s skin. “You like that.”

As if testing it, Dean’s fingertips trace slowly up the scales covering Cas’s spine. Cas shudders as Dean’s magic sparks off his, then uses a hand in the center of Dean’s chest to push him on his back. Dean’s eyes flash bronze, and it takes a second for Cas to realize Dean is reacting to Cas’s show of strength.

“Mm,” Cas says. _“You_ like _that.”_

Dean smiles and rolls his eyes at the same time. “You can’t shame me for likin’ it when you push me around.”

“What else do you like?”

“You first. They’re your wishes.”

Cas stops, halfway hunched over on the way for a kiss. Dean’s eyes and markings are glittering bright, and he reaches up to put his hand in Cas’s hair, but Cas fumbles off his lap and starts backing up towards the bathroom.

“Cas —?”

“Just a second,” Cas says, and slams the door. Now that he’s not touching Dean, he’s freezing cold with a bare chest and bare feet. He leans on the counter and lets his head drop between his shoulders, trying to control the panic in his chest. Cas’s _mate,_ a slave to his wishes.

“Cas?” Dean says softly, just on the other side of the door. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to rush you.”

“What happens if you don’t grant them?”

“What? Hon, open the door.”

Cas opens the door. Dean is breathtakingly gorgeous and looks worried. Cas says, “What happens if you don’t grant my wishes? Does it hurt you?”

Dean looks down. “It’s ok if you changed your mind.”

“I don’t want you to be forced into doing something with me. Magical compulsion isn’t consent.”

“Says the guy collecting pennies.” Dean takes a step closer, but doesn’t touch. “We should put the sex on hold.”

“I’m sorry. I just can’t —”

“Hey,” Dean says, reaching out to squeeze Cas’s hand. “You know I saw the book too, right? I’d like to hear what kind of words you’ve been hoarding.”

Cas blushes deep red but can’t let go of Dean’s hand. “You have to know I’m humiliated right now.”

“I’m cool with that,” Dean says, stepping backwards and pulling Cas along with him. Dean bends to grab Cas’s sweaters off the floor, and Cas is glad for the excuse not to look at Dean while he pulls them on.

Dean steps close enough to wrap his arms around Cas’s neck. “Can I keep you warm while you tell me about your adventures in Jinny?”

“Yes,” Cas says. He ducks under Dean’s arm and climbs into his bed, and they both sit against the headboard, wrapped in a comforter. Dean hugs him close, kisses his temple. Cas smiles and says, “What embarrassing thing will you tell me?”

“Whatever you want.”

“Can you tell me what it’s like? Seeing wishes?”

“I could try,” Dean says. “I’ll tell you after you show me your JSL skills.”

“This is my third language, thank you very much.”

“Oh man, really? I didn’t think anyone knew Dragon anymore.”

Cas squints. “I certainly don’t, but I’m fluent in Spanish.”

Dean tilts his head back in laughter, squeezing Cas. “I’m sorry, that was stupid.”

“Kesh, it was,” Cas says, trying to frown at Dean.

“Tarujaiz, dumu,” Dean says, eyes lighting up.

Cas blinks. “‘Taruja’ is an apology, and I know you don’t mean it. What is ‘dumu’?”

“Don’t worry about it. What else you got?”

“Um.” Cas didn’t expect to be quizzed, and frantically tries to remember words he swore he knew yesterday. “Osho, rujofuiv?”

“Gaugau toviz.” Dean says, then breaks off to give Cas a soft kiss. “Christ, ekoruiv — do you know ‘kenvaro’?”

Cas’s eyes widen. Kenvaro, _one who’s wished for._ “Me?”

“Tiz hofi,” Dean says. “Only a little.”

Cas looks down, watching his own hand trace the swirls of the markings on Dean’s shoulders. “Vuhufechuźiv osho toviz.”

“Yeah. Glad I met you,” Dean says, running his fingers through Cas’s hair and then along the curve of one of his horns. “You’re so awesome. I’d learn Dragon for you.”

“Stephen wrote his PhD about dying magic languages, so you could ask him to teach you.”

“Nah,” Dean says. “I should woo you with something you actually know. I’ll learn some Spanish.”

“Tell me about wishes,” Cas says.

“It’s like, uh,” Dean leans his head back against the headboard, chewing on his lip. “It’s not like I’ve done it a lot. But it’s like — when you wake up from a really intense dream, and you’re not sure what’s real. But it was instant when I touched you.”

Cas looks at Dean long enough in silence that Dean looks back at him, blushing under the inspection. “It wasn’t just sex I wanted.”

“Yeah,” Dean says, smiling a little. “I’m kinda figuring that out.”

 

_Dumu (noun):_

_[1] A form of_ _address_ _to a man or a woman considered to be_ _attractive_ _._

_[2] An affectionate form of address to a beloved person._

 

“Osho, zik rii,” Dean says when he opens the door.

“Osho,” Cas says. “What does ‘rii’ mean?”

“Gecko,” Dean says, and pulls Cas in to give him a quick kiss before he can respond. “I know, I know, I’m such an asshole to you.”

It’s very, very warm in Dean’s house, almost as hot as the dog days outside. Dean’s not sweating yet, but he must be miserable. Cas’s mate is so kind-hearted. “I’m sorry I’m so late.”

“It’s cool,” Dean says, tugging at one of Cas’s horns. “You’re here now.”

It’s not really different than it’s always been with them — on the couch, binge-watching The Good Place and binge-eating sweet potato chips — except by sometime around midnight, Dean’s curled up on the couch with his head in Cas’s lap, Cas running his fingers through Dean’s hair. The markings on Dean’s face and neck are glowing almost as bright as the tv.

Dean rolls onto his back to smile up at Cas. “Stay tonight?”

“Fechuźiv,” Cas says, smiling back.

Cas uses Dean’s toothbrush and tells Dean to turn down the temperature. It’s late, but they lay awake in the dark, Dean in Cas’s arms, talking about nothing in particular. It’s getting closer to morning than night, and Cas says, “Dean?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you want to know my other wishes?”

Dean tilts his head up, his breath warm on Cas’s jaw. “Yeah, tell me.”

“I want to show them to you.” Dean doesn’t reply, so Cas says, “You can drink.”

Dean sucks in a harsh breath. “No.”

“Why not?”

Dean nuzzles just under Cas’s ear. Cas wonders if he can smell the blood racing along with his pulse. “I don’t deserve to know that.”

“You do, especially since they’re about you.”

Dean turns Cas’s chin towards him and kisses him. “I might see all your other wishes, too.”

“I don’t mind.”

“I’ll have to cut you.”

“I assumed so,” Cas says.

Dean’s glowing so bright that Cas can make out the shape of him fumbling for the lamp pull. “Are you sure? Like — what if I see something you don’t want me to?”

“Can you see my fears too?”

“No.”

“Then I don’t mind,” Cas repeats.

“Let me go see if…” Dean waves his hand vaguely and then gets up. Cas waits, colder without Dean in his arms.

Dean comes back with a little plastic box for fresh box cutter blades. His hands are shaking hard enough that Cas takes the box to open it himself. “I’ll do it.”

“Good idea,” Dean says with an embarrassed laugh.

Cas pushes his sweaters up to bare his stomach. He barely feels the cut, but Dean’s eyes shine copper. “Are you — really, Cas?”

“Kesh, dumu.”

Dean smiles. Leans close. Takes a shaky breath, runs the tip of his tongue like a tickle over the cut. Cas can feel his magic — their magic, together — but can’t see what Dean sees. Watching Dean stain his mouth red, Cas wonders.

Cas has thought about Dean wearing one of Cas’s sweaters when it’s finally something like winter. Cas has imagined Dean dumping coins on to the dresser and then picking out the pennies for a jar on Cas’s nightstand. He’s wondered if he could make Dean incoherent enough to slip into Jinny in bed, gasping filthy words Cas doesn’t know yet.

“Oh, _auvek,”_ Dean says, shuddering, and then he clambers back up the bed to kiss Cas, his hand squeezing one of Cas’s horns, a little frantic.

Dean pulls away before the kiss gets too hot and just rests his forehead against Cas’s, breathing hard.

“What did you see?” Cas whispers.

“You want to be my mate.”

“I — yes.”

“You know I can’t treat you like you deserve.”

Cas frowns. “I don’t know that at all.”

“I’m a junkie, Cas.”

“Don’t talk about yourself like that. You’re trying to get better, and you already know you’re my best friend.” Cas touches Dean’s face, running the pad of his thumb over Dean’s bottom lip. “I understand if you don’t feel the same, but I wanted you to know.”

“Cas,” Dean says with an exasperated smile. “I was flirting with you when we met. I almost kissed you like ten times, but I didn’t want to be that guy that can’t take a hint.”

Cas squints. “When?”

Dean shrugs and looks away. “Pretty much all the time, but then I thought you might be aro or ace or even just thought I was a loser…”

“You’re not,” Cas says.

Dean sits up and looks at Cas’s stomach. “Shit. I bet I only have small bandaids.”

“It’s not bad,” Cas says, but he can tell Dean is over-worrying. “Kiss me before you go after bandaids.”

Cas holds Dean close and coaxes him into a kiss where Cas can taste himself on Dean’s tongue. Dean _whimpers_ when Cas breaks the kiss.

“Bandaids,” Cas reminds him, and Dean nods, though it takes a moment for him to tear himself away.

Dean spreads neosporin across the cut so gingerly, and then a couple of bandaids in a row to cover it. He’s a weird mix of flushed with desire and feeling guilty about it, and he hesitates before he pulls Cas’s shirts down and the blankets over them.

Dean curls up in Cas’s arms again, nestled under his chin, and the sky’s turning pink by the time they sleep.

 

Cas wakes up spooning Dean, with his fingers tucked just under the waistband of Dean’s sweatpants. Dean is still heavy with sleep. Cas’s cock is hard. He’s not sure the etiquette of this situation, but he thinks he should let Dean rest.

Cas starts to extricate himself from Dean and the blankets, but Dean grabs Cas’s hand and pushes it further into his pants. Not obscene, and maybe not on purpose — it’s just the warm skin of his belly and hip curved under Cas’s hand. “Baby, don’t go,” Dean murmurs.

Cas takes a careful breath and presses up behind him again. Dean arches his back, a little purr in his throat as he grinds his ass into Cas’s cock. “Dean,” Cas whispers, and Dean bares his neck for Cas’s mouth.

“I really want you to fuck me,” Dean says, voice still rough with sleep. “When you’re ready.”

Cas’s hand jerks, and now he feels the silky-hot of the head of Dean’s cock, hard and reaching for his touch. “And if I’m ready now?”

“Auvek, yeah.”

“Will you show me how?”

“Pretty sure you could figure it out,” Dean says. “But yeah, ok.”

Dean rolls over onto his back and Cas kisses him, slow and soft at first and then hungry and gasping. Cas leaves Dean’s mouth to push up his shirt, bend and kiss along one of the bronze swirls there, close to where Dean’s sweatpants are tented by his cock.

“If you do what you’re thinking about doing, I’m going to come instantly,” Dean says.

Cas laughs. “I’m supposed to be the embarrassed virgin.”

“I’m the embarrassed non-virgin instead.” Dean sits up to pull off his shirt, and then tugs at Cas’s sweaters. “Just so you know, I haven’t been with anyone since we met. And I’ve been tested.”

Cas rolls his eyes before he makes it out of his shirts. “Lizard people can’t catch your diseases.”

“Oh, right. Well.” Dean’s blushing, and Cas never would’ve imagine Dean being shy. “I guess that’s good because I don’t have the right kind of condoms.”

Cas’s eyes widen. “You don’t think — am I —?”

“I dunno. Guess we’re about to find out.”

“Maybe this isn’t a good idea,” Cas says, looking away. “I might hurt you.”

“Cas,” Dean says, giving a soft tug to one of Cas’s horns and then a soft kiss to his mouth. “How about — you lay back and relax, and I’ll take care of you.”

“Ok,” Cas says, because Dean is too bright and beautiful to say anything else.

Dean shoves Cas onto his back and grins before kissing him, hot and slow. He must’ve already figured out that kissing Cas like this makes his brain short-circuit, makes it impossible for his thoughts to keep spinning.

Dean nips softly at Cas’s bottom lip, and then at his jaw. His teeth are sharp, a threat as they skim down Cas’s throat along with wet kisses. _“Oh,”_ Cas gasps as Dean tugs gently at one of his nipples.

“Yeah?” Dean says, his mouth hot as it brushes across the shimmering scattering of scales on Cas’s chest. “You think about me sucking your cock a lot?”

Cas looks down and Dean looks back, smiling, eyes burning. “Not a lot.”

Dean’s hands slide to wrap around Cas’s hips as he kisses down his body, warming Cas up slowly with breath and lips and tongue and teeth and murmurs. It’s not the way Cas imagined Dean using Jinny in bed, but Cas doesn’t know these reverent words any more than he knows filthy ones.

Cas realizes one of his hands is tangled in Dean’s hair. It’s soft, strands shining gold in the sunlight, and he stares at the flex of the muscles in Dean’s shoulders, the universe of his markings.

Dean pauses, his nose brushing across the rough fabric of bandaids. Cas says, “Do you want to…?”

“No,” Dean says, like he doesn’t mean it.

“You could.”

Dean shivers. “Maybe — maybe later.”

Cas is in two layers of sweatpants and he lifts his hips for Dean to pull them off. Dean kisses the inside of Cas’s knee, then settles between his legs. Cas squeezes his eyes shut before Dean even gets close to his cock, suddenly terrified for no reason at all, but Dean just breathes warm on the peeking head.

Cas wasn’t sure what to expect, but he feels like he’s vibrating out of his skin as Dean coaxes him exposed and then into his mouth. Cas worries he’s squeezing Dean’s shoulder too hard, but can’t stop. He can’t breathe.

Dean pulls off, gives Cas’s cock a long, slow lick from base to leaking tip. “Shh, dumu. Relax.”

“I’m sorry,” Cas says, forcing his eyes open, but Dean ignores him to run the wet of his mouth down the underside of Cas’s cock. _“Dean.”_

Dean hums in response and Cas feels the vibration of it, his thighs tightening as Dean sucks gently on one of his balls. “I kinda want to eat you out too. If you want.” Cas hesitates and Dean smiles. “Maybe some other time then.”

Cas realizes that something he loves about Dean is never really having to verbalize what he needs. Dean just knows, and maybe Dean’s not like that with everyone.

And then Cas realizes Dean is using that knowledge to take him apart with his mouth.

“Oh — Dean —”

Dean hums again, and Cas arches his hips into it as he hurtles towards orgasm. Dean backs off to suck the head while his hand squeezes the base, slick with his spit. _“Fuck,”_ Cas gasps, his knot swelling as he comes.

Dean swallows, squeezes, strokes. There’s not more come than usual, but it _feels_ like it’s going on forever, Cas shaking with the intensity of the pleasure. Dean lets Cas out of his mouth to press his forehead to Cas’s hip, panting, but keeps touching, until Cas realizes it wasn’t Dean but himself ending up the incoherent one.

Dean picks his head up and leans to kiss Cas. He tastes sharp. “Was that good?” Dean says, still squeezing, still glowing.

“Yes,” Cas whispers, and kisses Dean through long minutes of shaking apart under his hands and magic.

“Best sex I’ve ever had,” Dean says. For the briefest moment Cas’s heart goes heavy and frozen, and then Dean smiles and Cas realizes he wasn’t being facetious at all.

“Me too,” Cas says, and Dean gives him a big, bright smile, and then a kiss.

Cas runs his hand down Dean’s chest, traces his fingertips over the copper swirls on Dean’s belly, wraps his hand around Dean’s hard and leaking cock. Dean’s eyes flutter closed when Cas strokes the first time. Dean feels good in Cas’s hand, thick, surprisingly hot, foreskin sliding to reveal the darker head.

“Yeah,” Dean breathes against Cas’s mouth. “God, I want you.”

“Me too,” Cas says, and Dean kisses him, dirty, a groan in his throat when he comes.

“Holy shit,” Dean says, panting and smiling.

Cas feels powerful, breaking apart someone like Dean just from his touch, and he keeps stroking, gentle and loose, until Dean bats his hand away and collapses onto the bed. He nuzzles into Cas’s neck and tangles their legs together, heedless of the mess.

“Was that all right?” Cas says, but he already knows from the way Dean’s shining that it was better than _all right._

“You’re a dork,” Dean says, squeezing Cas’s hand. Cas realizes Dean is purring, a gentle rumble from his chest, and Cas knows what that means. “Short nap, and then we’ll do whatever. Cool?”

“Cool.”

 

“So we’re doing the boyfriend thing, right?”

Cas squints. “I thought so. Are we not?”

“I just meant — I need to make a better impression on Stephen and Jimmy. Thought maybe we could go for drinks or something and hopefully I’ll look less like a disaster this time.”

“You’re not a disaster,” Cas says, kissing Dean’s cheek in a way he knows annoys him.

Dean shakes him off, laughing, then grabs one of Cas’s horns to pull him back in for a real kiss.

“They really like you,” Cas says. “They kept telling me I should tell you about the pennies.”

“You should’ve listened,” Dean says.

Cas scowls. Dean tries to scowl back but cracks first, smiling and squeezing Cas closer.

“I think I can say this in our situation without it being really weird,” Dean says, “but — vi dishuiz.”

Cas’s eyes widens and he just stares for a blank second, his heart jumping. “Me too. Vi dishuiz too.”

Dean shines impossibly bright.

**Author's Note:**

> [beautiful art by wingsandimpalas!](http://http://reallyelegantsharkfish.tumblr.com/post/180005000590/djinn-dean-for-reallyelegantsharkfish-trustworthy)
> 
> [reallyelegantsharkfish on tumblr](http://reallyelegantsharkfish.tumblr.com)
> 
> [rebloggable tumblr post](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/reallyelegantsharkfish)
> 
>  
> 
>  **jinny translations:**
> 
> _Kesh:_ Yes  
>  _Tarujaiz:_ I'm sorry  
>  _Osho, rujofuiv?_ : Hello, how are you?  
>  _Gaugau toviz:_ Really really good  
>  _Ekoruiv:_ You are  
>  _Tiz hofi:_ A little bit  
>  _Vuhufechuźiv osho toviz:_ It's nice to meet you  
>  _Osho, zik rii:_ Hello, gecko-man  
>  _Fechuźiv:_ I'd love to  
>  _Auvek:_ An interjection meaning something like _fuck,_ but only used for positive sentiments  
>  _Vi dishuiz:_ I love you (romantically)


End file.
